25: Mapping

As the days and weeks progressed the temperature dropped and there came a day when the water in the cistern had a film of ice forming and the spring was running sluggishly. Maglor and Arthalion were examining the trough, for everyone took a turn at keeping an eye on it. They lifted part of the roof covering it.

“The water is still running but you can see it’s beginning to freeze a bit,” Maglor said.

Arthalion nodded. “At least the cistern is completely filled. Should we close the trough and open the sluice, do you think?”

“That seems to be the best course for now,” Maglor replied. “Let us hope that the water in the cistern does not freeze all the way, though.”

“Even if it does, we’ll have plenty of snow to melt for water, then the water in the cistern will still be there in the spring.”

“I just wish we had a wooden cover for it to keep debris out of it,” Maglor said as he replaced the stone cover on the trough. Arthalion did not comment on that as they moved further along to where the spring was and set about closing the trough and opening the sluice, allowing the water to flow away. “We’ll keep an eye on the spring and see if it freezes as well. Possibly it just gets covered with snow and is iced over.”

“It’s not as if you really are any worse off than before,” Arthalion said with a smile. “Perhaps I should have invited everyone to move to my cave. There is an underground river not far from the cave I used. The water is so cold that nothing lives in it and even when the glaciers covered all it still ran. I have no idea where its source is or even where it goes. I never felt the need or desire to trace its path.”

“Well, it’s too late for us to go there now,” Maglor said with a shrug. “I think we’ve done well enough here.”

“Oh, indeed,” Arthalion said with a nod. “I am most impressed by what has been accomplished here.” Then he changed the subject as they went back toward the settlement. “Do you think we will be able to establish a forge and find a mine as you wish to do?”

“That remains to be seen,” Maglor replied. “You know Glóredhel and I have been discussing what we might be able to do if we are able to find the remains of a forge or what we would need to do to construct our own. If we can get a forge going and find sufficient metal, we can begin creating implements to help with building a ship. The various metal plates and such that we found in your cave can be melted down but we’ll need more than what is there, so we need to find one of the Dwarf mines and hope we can find the necessary ore. We’ll also need to go back to the valley of trees and begin harvesting them, both for wood to feed the forge and for seeds to plant trees that will eventually be used for building the ship.”

“You really do not think the Belain will not simply find a way for us to reach Dor Rodyn.”

Maglor shook his head. “No. I do not, though I suspect most of us hold to that fantasy.” He chuckled. “I even overheard Aerin say to her brothers that perhaps the Belain would send Eärendil in Vingilot to pick us up and sail us back to Dor Rodyn.”

Arthalion grinned. “Now that would be fun,” he said and they both laughed.

“And it would certainly make things easier for us all,” Maglor added when they had both calmed down, “but I honestly don’t see it happening, and to tell you the truth, I would much rather make it or not on my own.”

“I can sympathize with the impatience that some are feeling at the thought that we may have to wait many ennin before we are able to Sail,” Arthalion said. “I remember the despair I felt when Arthad and I finally came to Mithlond to find it deserted and the last ship was already disappearing down the Gulf too many miles away for us to ever catch up to it though we ran almost to Harlond in the hope that someone would see us. They never did and we stood there on the headland and watched the ships leave us behind.” He stopped in his tracks, gazing at nothing in particular. Maglor stood silently by. When Arthalion spoke again it was barely above a whisper and there was much anguish in his voice.

“I was convinced that my brother blamed me for us not reaching Mithlond in time. He never said a word, but in my heart of hearts I believed he hated me for being the cause of our delay. For a long time I thought his… his dying was my punishment for us missing the ship. He, at least, was now in the Blessed Realm and would someday be reborn, but I… I was forever condemned never to see it or him and….”

He was weeping now and Maglor moved to hold him, never saying a word, for what could he have said? Instead, he simply held the ellon through his tears until they finally ceased. He held Arthalion for a minute or two longer before stepping back, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I grieve for your loss and your sorrow. I do not believe Arthad hated you or even blamed you. I suspect he always blamed himself and his grief at being unable to bring you safely to Dor Rodyn weighed heavily upon him, perhaps still does, but the Belain in their infinite mercy saw fit to arrange matters so that we found you and now you have the opportunity to finally Sail with the rest of us, though that event is probably many long years away. Take comfort in that, if in nothing else.”

Arthalion nodded, swiping at the tears on his cheeks that were half freezing in the cold. “Thank you,” he said with simple sincerity and Maglor nodded as they resumed their walk, reaching the settlement a few minutes later where they reported their findings to Denethor and what they had done. Denethor nodded and thanked them, saying that Damrod was planning on another hunting party to leave in the morning and they were welcome to join it.

“Though what I really would like is for someone to find where those cat-creatures are holing up,” he said at the end. “Haldir thinks the colony is actually in the Ered Luin and they only come into these hills to hunt. There’re only about twelve or fifteen miles separating the southern-most spur of the Emyn Beraid from the northern-most spur of the Ered Luin, so that makes sense. The mountains would afford better protection against the elements.”

Maglor and Arthalion both nodded. “Perhaps we can do that. There are two hunting groups going out, are there not? We can join the one heading south and see if we can find evidence of where these cat-creatures live. I know Haldir and the other hunters have been keeping an eye out for them, but except for that one time, there’s been no evidence of them.”

“And that is what is most disturbing,” Denethor averred. “If there is a colony anywhere near, we should have found evidence of it, and if these creatures have some kind of intelligence to them, why have they not come looking for their companions when they did not return?”

“Hopefully, we will find the answer to those questions,” Arthalion said.

“Hopefully,” Denethor repeated, but his expression was still troubled and Maglor knew he had every reason to be.

“Let’s go check with Damrod,” he said to Arthalion. The two gave Denethor brief bows and set off to find Damrod who was in the south tower organizing the two hunting groups. When they arrived Damrod welcomed them and when Maglor told them what Denethor had said, Damrod agreed that the hunters going south should also see if they could find evidence of where the cat-creatures were living.

“I, for one, would like to eliminate them completely so we never have to worry about them,” he said and there were more than a few nods among the others. They spent a little time discussing their possible routes based on the maps that they had begun to create using some of the precious leather for that purpose. Slowly the Emyn Beraid were being mapped with the location of goats and deer herds carefully marked. Much of the area around the towers and north was well mapped but the bulk of the hills lay to the south and little of it had been explored as there were too few of them to send too many parties out. Now, though, Denethor felt it necessary to begin mapping the southern reaches of the hills before the weather became too dangerous to do so. Already the snows were coming more frequently and Arthalion assured them that before too long there might be days and weeks with nothing but snowfall. Mapping as much of the area as they could before that was thus a priority.

So, the next morning, Maglor and Arthalion joined Celepharn, Gilgaran and Saelmir and headed south while others went north.

“And you may actually have better luck than we,” Haldir, who was leading the north hunters, said with a grin. “The goats are becoming wary and they are harder to find.”

“Good luck then,” Maglor said and they parted company.

Gilgaran was the nominal leader of the southern group, though when he learned that Maglor was joining them he tried to turn the leadership over to him. Maglor demurred.

“You are a far more experienced hunter than I, at least where the Emyn Beraid are concerned. I have only been on one hunting expedition and I went north, not south. Damrod appointed you to lead us and rightly so.”

“But you outrank us all,” Gilgaran protested.

“Perhaps if we were lolling about the Noldóran’s palace in Tirion-on-Túna, plucking cherries from the trees in the lower orchards as we listened to a group of minstrels entertain us, that might be true,” Maglor retorted with a grin, “but out here in the middle of what is now only wilderness on the wrong side of the ocean? Please, don’t make me laugh. Now let’s stop wasting time and get on with it.”

Without waiting for the others, he set off with Arthalion striding beside him, the ellon casting a merry look at the three Sindar. For a second or two, the other three ellyn just stood there gaping at them but then pulled themselves together and set off, catching up with the other two. Gilgaran walked on the other side of Maglor while Saelmir and Celepharn took the rear. Maglor, for his part, gave Gilgaran a brief nod of welcome but said nothing as they wended their way southward.

“How far have you mapped this part of the hills?” Arthalion asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Not as far as we would’ve liked,” Gilgaran replied. “Most of our mapping endeavors have been to the north because the Towers lie just north of what we think is the central point of the entire range and the northern flank seems lower and less steep than the southern flank.” He pointed ahead to where they could see the crest of a hill that was perhaps a couple of miles away, though distance was deceiving as they would have to make their way through valleys and up ridges and Maglor knew that it would be hours before they reached that particular hill. “We haven’t mapped much further than there,” Gilgaran continued.

“How extensively do you intend to map this part then?” Maglor asked.

“Not too extensively at the moment,” Saelmir answered, for mapping was his primary responsibility and along with his usual gear he carried a roll of leather, several reed brushes and homemade ink for that purpose. “What we want is to get a general outline of these hills, so we’re going to skirt the outer boundaries, make a circuit. Once we’ve done that then we can concentrate on the interior, but that will probably have to wait until spring or summer. If we chance upon valleys where goats and deer congregate, we will mark them on the map.”

“We won’t actually hunt for anything until we’re heading back to the Towers,” Gilgaran added. “Mapping is our primary purpose, that and finding out where those cat-creatures are.”

“Perhaps we should move down into the plains if you simply want to map the boundaries of the hills,” Arthalion suggested.

“That is what we plan to do,” Gilgaran answered, “but I want to go to the valley where we encountered those creatures first. It’s only a two-day march from the Towers, far too close for comfort to my mind. I am hoping to pick up traces. If those creatures are actually living in the mountains, I want to know why they were so deep in the hills. I would think they would stay closer to the southern flank.”

“It is disturbing,” Maglor said. “Do you think they were scouting us, somehow sensing our presence within these hills which they must think of as their private domain? When we were attacked on the Downs I sensed a heightened intelligence in them. They were thinking creatures, though perhaps not on the same level as we or Mortal Men. Yet, there was a miasma of evil that hung around them and I suspect that Morgoth had a hand in their creation.”

The others visibly shuddered at that pronouncement and their looks were grim.

“I guess the only way to find out is to ask one of them,” Saelmir said after a moment and most of them rolled their eyes at the attempted levity. Celepharn gave him a swat in the back of his head.

It actually took them the better part of three days to traverse the distance to the valley where the hunters had encountered the cat-creatures. Along the way, Saelmir, with everyone’s help, began mapping their route, for Maglor had pointed out that even though they had not been commissioned to map the interior as such, it was foolish not to at least map their route southward so it would not have to be done later. Gilgaran had agreed, so their pace was slower than it needed to be as they made careful notes on the topography. In the course of their travels they did encounter one valley where goats were congregated and carefully marked its location on the map.

“They’re moving,” Celepharn commented. “There were no goats the last time any of us came this way.”

“Where do you think they came from?” Saelmir asked as he rolled the leather strip up once the ink had dried.

“There was a group further east at one point,” Celepharn replied, frowning slightly in thought. “It was nearer to the plains. If this is the same group….”

“They’re moving inward into the deeper valleys,” Maglor suggested. “They know winter is nigh and they seek better protection. There is precious little in the way of forage for them but these hills are more protected than the plains.”

“That makes sense,” Gilgaran said. “I wonder if the other hunters are noticing any migrations as well.”

“It would be interesting to see if there is a pattern,” Maglor said. “Perhaps if we are here long enough we’ll be able to discover it. It might help us to keep track of the herds better.”

They all nodded and once Saelmir had everything packed they headed off again. “We should be at the valley where those cat-creatures were found by nightfall,” Gilgaran informed them and true to his word the sun was just setting in glory behind the hills to the west as they made their way into the valley. It was much like all the other valleys they had traversed: a narrow strip of land running more or less north and south. This one was shallow, the hill peaks closer and the way was not as steep as it could be and like all the other valleys there was little to commend it, no trees or bushes, not even grasses, only a variety of mosses clinging tenaciously on the rocky soil and now much of it was snow covered.

“Were they actually hunting here or resting?” Maglor asked as he surveyed the area. “Haldir said the creatures were hunting them.”

“Yes,” Gilgaran said. “We had been following a herd of deer actually. There were signs of one in this area and perhaps those cat-creatures were doing the same and then they found us. We knew we were being stalked though we did not know it was the same creatures as attacked us in the Shire until we lured them into our trap. We had no compunction about killing them. I did not wish to bring any of them into camp but Haldir thought it important.”

“Why did you not butcher them here and bring the meat?” Arthalion asked. “Though I am very glad you did not or attempt to eat them beforehand.”

“We were going to, but Haldir decided to bring the carcasses back whole, saying only that he felt it was important that we do so. I confess having to touch them left me feeling unclean and it was some time before I stopped scrubbing myself raw afterwards.”

“Perhaps something inspired him to do as he did,” Maglor said quietly, stealing a glance at Arthalion who had moved away to stand staring at nothing in particular, his expression pensive. “It saved us much grief.”

The three Sindar nodded in understanding.

“It’s too dark to do any exploration,” Gilgaran said, staring up into the sky where stars were beginning to shine. “Why don’t we set up camp and look about in the morning?” The others agreed and soon they were sitting around a fire enjoying the goat stew that Arthalion had put together.

In the morning, after dousing the fire, they began looking about, spreading out in search of evidence of the cat-creatures. It was Arthalion who found what they were looking for.

“Over here,” he called from where he had wandered away and they went to him. He was crouched near the ground and did not rise but simply pointed. Maglor crouched beside him and saw the tracks. They were faint, the impressions filled in by recent snowfall and only because the temperatures had remained cold and nothing had melted were they still visible.

“They’re old, at least several weeks, is my guess,” Maglor said and the others nodded.

“Could be from the same group that we killed,” Gilgaran said.

“Where did you kill them?” Maglor asked as he and Arthalion stood up.

Gilgaran pointed to the southwest. “Over there. You can see where the valley goes in that direction. We originally sensed them in the valley we traversed yesterday but it was here that we set our trap.”

“And so we have no idea from which direction they originally came,” Arthalion commented.

“Except that a hunting party had been this way several days earlier and there was no sign of the creatures,” Gilgaran pointed out.

“So sometime between one hunting party and the next, these creatures appeared,” Maglor said. “How far are we from the southern flank of these hills?”

“We think it’s a good eight leagues as the craban flies,” the Sinda replied, “but no one has gotten all the way down so we’re only guessing at this point.”

Maglor nodded, sweeping his gaze about, thinking about what he had learned so far. It was little enough and none of it conclusive. “Well, it appears that none of those creatures have been here for some time now. Should we try to hunt them or continue with the mapping?”

“We should be mapping,” Saelmir said before Gilgaran could answer. “And we’ll need to backtrack because we passed the point where the last group ended their mapping. Denethor wants as accurate a map as we can produce.”

“How far must we backtrack?” Gilgaran asked with a frown.

Saelmir unrolled the map and pointed. “We’re here. You can see we put this valley in already based on what the hunters could remember of it. I’d like to stay long enough to make any corrections. You can see that this valley is south of where the eastern boundary ends. Celepharn has been helping me measure the distance. We will need to move northeast until we are out of the hills and down into the plains. The last group of mappers left a cairn to mark where they had stopped before returning to the settlement. We need to find that cairn.”

“That could take days,” Gilgaran protested.

“No,” Maglor said, looking closely at the map. “Even if the distances recorded here are not exact, I suspect that we’re only a league or two from where the cairn is. The main problem I see is that none of the valleys run in the direction we need to go, which means we will be doing a lot of climbing.”

“Can’t be helped,” Saelmir said philosophically. “We should have gone directly down to the plain and simply followed the hills until we came to the cairn. Now we’ll just have to hunt for it and hope we find it quickly. Coming here, I think, was a waste of time.”

“No, not a waste,” Arthalion said. “These tracks tell us that the creatures have not come into the hills recently. They should have been able to track their missing companions and if so they should have tracked them to this valley and then they need only follow the scent left by the carcasses as they were dragged to the settlement by Haldir and the others.”

“You’re right, Arthalion,” Maglor said. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’ve seen no sign of those creatures near the settlement or anywhere in these hills, just that one party.” He paused to think out the ramifications of that but then shook his head. “Saelmir, finish up with what you need to do as quickly as possible. We should continue on while the daylight lasts. We can think about it later.”

Saelmir nodded. “I just want to make a few minor corrections and then we’ll be set.” With that he moved away from the rest of them, examining the surrounding area, then looking at the map, making a few corrections as he muttered to himself while everyone else looked on. In a short while, he was rolling up the map and stowing away his equipment and they set off, heading northeast.

They ended up spending a day and a night traversing the distance until they were finally coming down onto the plains just as dawn was breaking. Far to the east they could make out the smudge of blue that marked the Fox Downs.

“We’ll split up,” Gilgaran stated. “Saelmir, you and Celepharn head north while Maglor and Arthalion head south. I’ll stay here. Go no more than a day’s walk before returning if you haven’t found the cairn before that.”

“We have no idea how far we are from it, though,” Arthalion pointed out. “We could be further than a day’s walk from it.”

“Yes, I know, but I don’t like the idea of us being separated for too long,” Gilgaran said. “I’m hoping though that Saelmir’s estimate of the distance is close and we’re not too far from it.”

“We can only hope,” Maglor said and he and Arthalion headed off.

Luck, however, was with them, for they had gone only half a league when they rounded the shoulder of a hill and saw the cairn. There was no mistaking it, for it was a pile of rocks about chest high set on top of one another in a pattern never imagined by nature. Maglor turned to Arthalion. “Go back and let them know. The others cannot have gone too far and you can easily catch up with them. I’ll stay here.”

Arthalion nodded and ran off, his feet barely touching the ground.

Maglor took the opportunity to scout around but saw nothing of real interest. About an hour went by before he saw the others approaching. Saelmir was already pulling out his map. “That was a bit of luck, finding it so quickly,” he said to Maglor.

“Not luck,” Maglor retorted with a smile. “You were not too far off in your estimate. That shows how well you are doing in being accurate. I’m sure Denethor will appreciate it when we bring back the map.”

The younger ellon blushed slightly. “Well, let’s get on with it then. Arthalion, you and Celepharn go ahead of us and count off paces walking naturally.”

“Why both of us when one will do?” Arthalion asked.

“Because I want one of you to do the pacing and the other to do the counting,” Saelmir replied. “Stay in step with one another and count out loud. We’ll be right behind you. Stop every one thousand one hundred and eleven strides to let us catch up.”

“What is the purpose of counting though?” Arthalion asked, clearly wishing to understand why they were doing what they were doing.

If Saelmir felt any impatience, he did not show it. “It took us a bit of experimenting to figure out how to do distances. You may have noticed that I was counting our paces under my breath as we were walking through the hills.” Everyone nodded. “Yes, well, I was double-checking distances. Those of us who have been mapping figured out that most of us can travel one league covering three thousand three hundred and thirty-three strides. So….” He left the rest unspoken for they understood what he was saying. Arthalion nodded and turned to Celepharn.

“I’ll count the first mile,” he said and the other ellon nodded and they went off. “One, two, three, four, five….”

“We’ll give them time to get ahead,” Saelmir said to Gilgaran and Maglor. “I want to move away from the hills a bit so I have a better perspective.” With that, he headed east, looking back now and then to gauge his distance while Maglor and Gilgaran followed. They could see the other two striding south with Arthalion counting nice and loud.

“… four hundred and three, four hundred and four….”

By the time the sun was setting, they had covered only ten miles but Saelmir was very satisfied with their progress and said as much.

“It’s still going to take a long time to finish this mapping,” Arthalion said. “I do not think we will complete it before we will need to head back. Snow is in the air and I sense a storm coming our way. I do not wish to be trapped in these hills when it comes.”

“How much time do you think we have?” Gilgaran asked.

“Maybe a couple of days, maybe more. I think we will do well to reach the southern flank before we need to head back.”

“We still need to hunt though,” Celepharn pointed out. “They are depending on us to bring back more meat.”

“There is that herd of goats we saw earlier,” Saelmir said. “We can come back this way instead of going along the western flank.”

“Except, I think we would do well to go along the western flank even if we do not do any mapping,” Arthalion countered. “The storm is coming from the northeast again and staying to the west will give us more shelter.”

“You have lived here long enough to be more sensitive to the weather patterns,” Maglor said. “We will do as you suggest.” He looked about at the others and they all nodded.

“We’ll continue mapping this for as far as we can before we have to head back to the settlement,” Gilgaran said. “I was really hoping that we would be able to find evidence of where those cat-creatures are but that may have to wait until we can send another expedition out.”

The others just shrugged, knowing there wasn’t much they could do about it. They finished their meal and set the watches as they waited for dawn to come so they could continue on their way.

****

Note: Saelmir is calculating a league using the ranga, which, according to Tolkien, was a Númenórean measurement that was 38 inches. 5,000 rangar equals 1 lar (Sindarin daur) which is approximately 3 miles or a league in our terminology. Thus, a mile would be 1,667 rangar. According to Tolkien, given the tallness of the Elves and Númenóreans as opposed to other Men, “[t]he ranga is often said to have been the length of the stride, from rear heel to front toe, of a full-grown man marching swiftly but at ease; a full stride ‘might be well nigh a ranga and a half.’” Thus Saelmir’s calculation that one mile would be covered in 1,111 strides is correct. See Unfinished Tales, ‘Númenórean Linear Measures’.